


crimson and clover, honey

by foxwedding



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Fae Magic, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscarriage, Multi, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwedding/pseuds/foxwedding
Summary: Arthur and Merlin stumble onto fae land and navigate the consequences. And then also the consequences of the consequences.Featuring old school fairy lore, herbalism, vague magic-made-them-do-it, season 2-ish idiot Merlin and idiot Arthur.





	crimson and clover, honey

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the legends surrounding a real rath in County Kildare, Ireland. Apparently, hopeful couples can bring offerings and be granted fertility.
> 
> The title is based on Lana Del Ray's _Venice Bitch_
> 
> I got inspired to write this after listening to the Merlisten podcast! Hi fellow Merlisteners!

Arthur

It all began like this:

Arthur, his knights, their squires, and Merlin were out running a mid-spring patrol of Camelot's borders at the behest of several outlying villages. They were on the final leg of the journey, looping back around to the city after six days on the road. Overall, the undertaking had been uneventful-bar the presence of a handful of highway bandits-and Arthur's men were eager avoid another night in the tents.

In their haste, no one seemed at all concerned by the unnaturally thick fog rolling in from the west, blanketing the ground thickly despite it being well into mid-morning. Except for Merlin, Arthur noticed. Merlin's mood had shifted from jovial anticipation to hunted and skittish, his eyes flitting about the horizon, craning his neck this way and that every so often, as if hearing something that Arthur could not. 

Arthur was tugging at his reins, intending to nudge his steed closer to Merlin's, when he noticed it. The sweetest crooning he'd ever heard, wafting out to him through the mist, settling gently inside his head. Fog was gathered around his steed's ankles now, and Arthur figured he could venture in a couple feet further before alerting his men. He looked out into the endless grey, trying to discern the direction from which the sound was emanating. The melody was lilting and old, and it had such a curiously disarming effect, Arthur thought, before there was a sudden grasp around his upper arm.

"Arthur!" It was Merlin, naturally. His manservant had sidled up beside him, his expression laden with unease. "I've been looking for you!"

Looking for him? Arthur frowned. "I've only gone two paces away!" He twisted around to underscore his proximity to the gentry but was met with a wall of mist in every direction. It was only Merlin, himself, and the horses, who were fidgeting underneath them. 

"Where are my men?" Arthur asked in bewilderment. Merlin was chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. 

Then, as quickly as the fog had rolled in, it cleared away. Arthur looked around. They were still on the same route they'd been riding along, the same terrain, the same series of peaks at the horizon. Only, no sign of his men. Not even the dust kicked up into the air by heavy footfalls. They spent until sundown scouring the landscape for signs of the gentry's whereabouts with no success.

Finally, Arthur dismounted with an easy swing of his leg, feet hitting the ground with a thud. Beside him, the horse huffed and shifted backwards uneasily, and Arthur reached back absently to pat the beast's neck. 

"We'll make camp here until sunrise," Arthur decided, Merlin acquiescing with a nod. He'd been distressingly quiet and distracted, only opening his mouth to voice short responses and suggestions. Arthur sensed he himself was acting likewise.

After a dinner of jerky, dried fruit, and sour wine, they settled into Arthur's tent, sleeping top to tail. Several fitful hours later, Arthur awoke in a confused panic-Merlin was gone, and had been gone for some time, given the lack of warmth under his side of the blanket. Bleary-eyed, Arthur pulled himself out of tent. Merlin's horse was missing as well, but it had kindly left a road map in the damp earth.

Arthur considered just going back to bed but thought better of it. He wasn't so foolish as to deny the unnaturalness of the situation. He needed to retrieve Merlin and get them away from whatever unholy entity was plaguing them this time. He dressed and armored as well as possible without his manservant's assistance and set out on foot, following the steed's faint tracks.

The surrounding woods were still and peculiarly quiet- not even the chorus of crickets.

Some indeterminable amount of time later, Arthur came upon Merlin's horse. Its saddle was empty, and the creature paced restlessly beside an enormous formation of boulders, the rocks aged with moss and lichen, and arranged atop one another in a fashion that was, startlingly, both man-made and organic. The structure was enclosed by a dense brush and canopied by the overreaching arms of gnarled oaks. At the base of the formation there was an opening just large enough for a grown man to crawl through. He approached the opening and dropped to a crouch. 

"Merlin!" He bellowed into the earthy darkness. "I know you've gone in there- you think you're clever hiding like this? You've left your horse out, you daft moron."

There was only the low whistle of wind passing between the boulders, and the sharp cadence of Arthur's outburst as only echoes returned. Cautiously, he lowered himself to his knees, hands gripping the cold rock as he craned his neck to peer into the opening without exposing too much of his face. His eyes strained but eventually picked up dim columns of moonlight within the passageway, suggesting that the formation opened up beyond. 

"I don't believe this," he groaned. He shucked his outer cloak and prepared to discard his dignity as well.

Belly-down on the ground, and against all better judgement, Arthur inched himself into the passage. Inside, cold earth pressed in on all sides, and the sudden terror that he may have inadvertently buried himself alive had Arthur clambering forward in a frenzy. Once he'd crawled the length of his own body, the narrow tunnel gave way to a small, moonlit clearing. 

It was some sort of rock basin, about the size of Arthur's bed quarters, and housed in by the large boulders he'd seen from the outside. Inside the space, there was a circular arrangement of man-like stone formations, and the dark silhouette of a prone figure at the center.

Arthur's gaze caught on the red of a neckerchief. Merlin.

One hand on the hilt of his parrying dagger, Arthur crept towards his manservant, trying to silence his footfalls even as the clinking of his chainmail betrayed his presence. He slipped in between two statues and crossed to the center.

Merlin looked… entirely unharmed, Arthur noted with irritation. In fact, the gentle rise and fall of his chest suggested that his idiot companion was merely asleep, albeit underdressed for the cold night. His limbs were sprawled in repose, the dark fan of his eyelashes flush against his cheekbones, fluttering as if Merlin was dreaming. Arthur knelt down and covered Merlin's mouth with one gloved hand, should the brunet awaken with his usual racket.

Merlin came to with a muffled gasp and a full body shudder, his eyes blinking rapidly, his gaze flitting about frantically, moonlight catching the blue of his irises. Arthur steadied him with a firm palm on his chest, pressing Merlin against the ground as he gathered his bearings. Merlin was breathing in rapid sips, one hand gripping Arthur's forearm with unusual fervor. The brunet's long fingers were a white-knuckled vice around the prince's leather gauntlets. In the moonlight, the visual contrast was striking.

"Having a nice lie-down, were you?" Arthur inquired with equal parts jest and concern.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, "we have to go." The exhalation was laden with despair, and then Arthur knew fear. The subtle manner in which the brunet pressed himself closer, his tense stillness, his silence- Merlin was _scared_. Arthur, cast about, trying to find the source of Merlin's distress. There were still alone in the clearing. 

"This is fair-folk land," Merlin exhaled anxiously. The exact configuration of micro-expressions on the brunet's face was somehow unfamiliar and mesmerizing to Arthur, who processed the shape of Merlin's lips first, the words from his mouth second. Arthur shook his head, reaching for focus. Merlin had begun to push up against his hold, trying to create some upwards momentum.

"Arthur, the longer we stay, the harder it will be to leave."

"Leave?" Arthur parroted, before the absent quality of his own words frightened him into motion. 

The blond heaved himself to his feet, gathered Merlin's forearms, and pulled him up as well. Around them, the statues cast shadows in the wrong direction given the position of the moon. Arthur shuddered.

"Show us an exit, will you Merlin?" Arthur tried for an unaffected tone, turning his head sharply when he felt Merlin tense and whisper under his breath. Moments later, Merlin was pulling him towards the boulder walls. Arthur looked back and could see the shadows elongating before his eyes, stretching improbably towards the boundaries of the basin. And then everything was dark and cold and smelling of earth as Merlin pushed forward relentlessly, pulling Arthur with him by a fistful of chainmail, breathing heavily and muttering lowly.

They were deposited back into the woods where they'd entered. Arthur became aware of a haze clearing from his mind as he gulped in cold air. Beside him, Merlin was turning about wildly, scanning their surroundings with eyes that flared bright and golden. Arthur averted his gaze and stared into the still columns of trees, all splashed with moonlight along one side. 

The chill began to set back in, and Arthur grimaced at the prospect of their fire, which was, no doubt, embers at this point after having no one to tend to it. He again worried about the whereabouts of his knights. Speaking of- Arthur whistled shrilly, glancing about for his steed whom had appeared to wander off- evidently with Merlin's as well. He bent down to retrieve his discarded cloak.

"Henry and Walter have gone off then?" Merlin's tone was resigned and tired.

"Sorry, who?" Nearly every word that spilled from Merlin's lips was baffling to Arthur.

"Our _horses_?" There was a beat of silence in response. And then:

"They've _names_?"

"Are you being serious right now?" Arthur couldn't understand Merlin's frustration.

"Are _you_?"

"Ugh, forget it." Merlin shook his head and rubbed the length of his arms, hunching into himself to conserve heat.

"You're so weak, Merlin," Arthur teased, tossing the heavy cloak at him before Merlin could respond. "How on earth did you end up out here?" 

"I-I don't know. I don't even remember falling asleep. I think it was the old ones-could you hear them singing?" Merlin shuddered while wrapping himself up. Immediately, Arthur decided he didn't want to know anything more.

"Merlin. The old ones are a made-up druid tale, even I know that." He was surprised when Merlin whirled around to shush him, gaze darting among the trees behind Arthur. The prince scoffed nervously but decided not to push it further. 

"Village boys." He muttered just loud enough for Merlin to hear. To his disappointment, his manservant didn't take the bait. Instead, they continued in silence.

By the time they'd stumbled into their camp, a dawn fog had settled, it's wet chill making Arthur's mail an icy jacket around his torso. Merlin pulled the edges of the cloak tighter around his shoulders, semi-circles like bruises under his eyes. Sure enough, the fire had been reduced to dull embers that smoked in the delicate, early-morning light. 

Without a word, Merlin set to rolling up their bedrolls while Arthur un-staked the tent. The density of the surrounding fog increased to near opacity while they worked, and both shuffled closer to one another instinctively. 

And then, like an answer to a prayer, there was the muted sound of men yelling in the distance. Arthur cold hear Merlin inhale sharply beside him, before scrambling to heave his pack onto his back.

"Gwaine!" Merlin yelled into the indiscernible mist. 

Arthur chimed in. "Kay! Leon! Move towards our voices!" 

Strangely, the men continued to call out for them with no indication they'd heard Arthur's or Merlin's responses. Arthur rolled his eyes and groaned in the direction of the sky.

"I guess we'll be going to them, instead." Merlin surmised, shifting the weight on his back and starting off into the fog. On principle, Arthur took offense.

"Merlin. Come back here." Arthur barked. Merlin turned around with an expression of clear distain before making a show of stomping back. 

"What." Merlin's tone was flat and impatient, always an indication he'd not had enough sleep. "My liege," he tacked on uselessly and without decorum. 

"I give the orders, Merlin, alright?" Arthur gestured to his own face. Meanwhile, Merlin blinked slowly, his expression otherwise unchanged. "We're going to them." Arthur finished, turning away before Merlin could respond.

They stuck together, picking their way around the trees as they emerged, Merlin's forearm in Arthur's grip to prevent Merlin from tripping haplessly over tree roots. When Merlin grumbled about it, Arthur tightened his fingers.

Abruptly and without warning, the fog thinned dramatically as they moved forward. A moment later, the air was utterly transparent, and they could see a cluster of mounted knights a few hundred meters in the distance.

"You're all useless burdens!" Arthur announced, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the message. Immediately, the group was trotting over, Arthur and Merlin's wayward horses among them.

"Nice, truly." Merlin admonished with a shake of his head.

"Leading is about balance, Merlin. I can't always coddle them with niceties- how could I ever expect them to improve?"

"I've- quite literally- never once seen you coddle anyone with niceties," Merlin retorted acerbically. Arthur decided to take the high road.

"You know, one might think it was you who didn't get any sleep. I spent half the night looking for my idiot manservant, only to find him sprawled out like a harem girl on someone else's land. Honestly, Merlin." Arthur clucked his tongue.

Merlin's face flushed but was saved from responding by the cacophony of the gentry descending upon them. Arthur thought they were inappropriately carefree and jovial for men separated from their prince overnight. As they approached, Gwaine eyed Merlin's attire with extreme interest.

"If you two wanted to have a woodland tryst, we'd have been happy to occupy ourselves until supper." The rest of the knights chuckled and Gwaine looked entirely too pleased with himself. Merlin ran a hand down his torso in confusion, before his eyes widened with the realization that he was still adorned in Arthur's cloak. 

"What- no, that's -" But Arthur interrupted, no doubt preventing Merlin from making the situation seem more salacious.

"Merlin here managed to lose his coat in the space of half-a-night. I had to wrap him in my cloak like some spring maiden lest he freeze through overnight." Arthur's tone was overly-blasé and swung up onto his mount with ease. Almost immediately thereafter, he received a heavy swath of fabric to the face. Arthur un-balled his cloak and glared his outrage at Merlin, who was now settled into his own saddle. Meanwhile, the knights and squires bore expressions of varying confusion.

"Overnight?" Kay questioned bewilderingly. Arthur frowned.

"Yes-" This time, it was Arthur that was cut off.

"Sir Kay, how long were we away?" Merlin's voice was reserved, but his intensity was nearly tangible. The knight in question frowned and considered his answer. It was times like this-when Merlin commanded strange deference with only his words and his will-that made Arthur's gut turn over. 

Kay was shaking his head before he'd even answered, "Not more than a moment."

Panic gripped Arthur around the torso, and he immediately beat it away. Across from him, Merlin met his gaze and was biting his bottom lip anxiously. Arthur realized it was time to lead.

"Curious," he quipped, as if someone had made a comment about odd weather. "Merlin, we'll come back to this at a later time. Alright then gentlemen, let's journey home, shall we?"

On cue, the atmosphere brightened: Knights sat up in anticipation of a celebratory night in the pubs, squires sagged in relief at the prospect of shedding their packs. All together they set off, Merlin keeping a backwards eye on the forest until it was beyond the horizon, Arthur keeping an eye on Merlin until Camelot was in view. 

____________________________________________________________________

Merlin

And then it continued like this:

Arthur and Merlin didn't talk about it. Like, at all. Which, Merlin thought, would have been an ideal conclusion to the ordeal. Except that he truly couldn't believe their good fortune. That they'd escaped without consequence after intruding onto fae land was unlikely, to say the least. But, after a few days of mundane, uninterrupted castle life, the worry faded to the back of Merlin's mind. 

~ + ~

About a full moon cycle later, Merlin was grinding his third mortar-full of burdock root for the morning. Gaius was away in the lower-city, tending to a handful of young women suffering from mid-term miscarriages. The frequency was alarming, but not necessarily foreboding, and so the castle operated under status quo. Merlin distributed even weights of the powder into drawstring sachets, packed them together, and left to deliver them to Gaius.

~ + ~

A month after that, Merlin was sent to the market to purchase as much cinnamon bark as he could find. Gwen accompanied him, and together they stuffed bundle after bundle into Merlin's bag, stopping to buy and eat honey cakes on the king's dime.

"No more after this one, Merlin," Gwen admonished through a full mouth, licking honey from her thumb. "Gaius knows how much gold he sent with us."

"Not Gaius's gold- the king's. We'll bring some back for Arthur. No one will be the wiser." Merlin stuffed the second half of his sweet into his mouth to punctuate the statement. Gwen still looked doubtful, so Merlin bought her a fresh ginger-current biscuit to quell her anxieties- with Arthur's funds, of course.

That evening, Merlin helped Gaius cut the bark into thin ribbons and drop them into clay jars of mead for infusion.

"It was a cold winter, Merlin," Gaius explained. "Herbs with heat will help warm the womb."

"Ah," Merlin responded, entirely uncomprehending. Instead, he itched distractedly at a gnome bite he'd acquired the previous week whilst hunting with Arthur. While Gaius explained the humours-yet again-to Merlin, Merlin planned how he, Gwaine, and a hooded Arthur were going to sneak away to the taverns later that night.

~ + ~

The next full moon, Merlin was on his hands and knees in the dirt, shoveling up fledgling mandrakes while Gaius sat on a nearby tree stump and held their torch.

"There's another two sprouting up right there, Merlin," Gaius instructed, one gnarled hand gesturing to a patch of brush a few meters to the side.

Merlin shifted his stance and moved the trowel to his other hand.

"You do know I still have to tend to his lordship in the morning, right Gaius? How much longer will we be out here?" Merlin could hear the whine in his voice but was beyond caring. What did it matter to him if there was an uptake in requests for fertility tinctures?

"'His lordship'?" Gaius mused. "Did you two fight again?"

"No!" Merlin lied. In fact, they'd had a minor spat just that afternoon. 

Lately, Arthur had taken to cornering Merlin when they were alone, insisting on making meaningful eye contact, and asking Merlin if he was 'okay' and whether or not he 'felt happy' and just generally talking circuitously about a lord's duty to ensure his subjects were 'safe from unjust harm.' Merlin couldn't understand what the prince was going on about, but having Arthur's stupidly attractive presence pushed into his own space was endlessly frustrating. 

Earlier in the day, Arthur had interrupted Merlin in the middle of straightening the bedcovers to inform him that, 'You're very loyal, Merlin. I can see that.'

When a punchline was not forthcoming, Merlin sensed it was a trick. Warily, he asked Arthur if he was being sacked again. Arthur's face adopted an expression of disbelief, and he threw his hands up angrily. Merlin was bewildered, and then irritated, and the ensuing fight consisted of both of them telling the other not to talk to him.

"I'm sure you'll both come around," Gaius surmised, sounding entirely unbothered. 

Merlin flexed his fingers to encourage some warmth and wondered if the dragon was laughing at him right this moment.

~ + ~

And another full moon later, a slew of the king's hogs begat stillborns. And when Merlin passed by the pens to dispose of the remains of Arthur's breakfast, there were spotted mushrooms peppering the grounds, encircling the perimeter of the enclosure. More concerning, the pigs wouldn't approach the growths, preferring to stay packed together in the center of the pen.

"Do you think there might be something malicious afoot?" Merlin wondered aloud to Gaius over porridge.

His mentor sighed and set down his spoon. 

"Gaius?" Merlin prodded.

"It certainly has all the features of a fae curse," the man admitted, "but it would be unheard of for an entire kingdom to be impacted. Fair-folk are only spiteful towards individuals that have committed offense against them."

Merlin froze with a spoonful halfway to his mouth. "Uh huh," he responded faintly. 

Gaius slumped tiredly. Behind him, there were mountains of hawthorn berries in pots, distilling down into a rancid wine. Later they'd be sweetened with honey and distributed to hopeful couples across the city and countryside.

"Perhaps we should look into it?" Merlin suggested in what he hoped was an off-handed manner.

"My hands are full, Merlin." Gaius gestured weakly to the surrounding chambers, which were replete with jars and glasses of various powders and liquids. The ceiling of Merlin's bedchamber was now host to a library of drying herbs. Books and parchment were stacked in every corner of the quarters. "It's unlikely, either way." Gaius resumed. "I haven't heard reports of fair-folk here since I was a child."

"Hmmm," Merlin stared down into his porridge and considered his options with distant panic. There was a key to Geoffrey's library in Arthur's desk drawer, he'd seen it before. Just before dawn, there'd be hardly any patrol, and he'd be able to slip in unnoticed. Merlin forced down another spoonful of porridge and resigned himself to a sleepless night.

~ + ~

Summer was giving way to fall now, and as the days grew shorter, Merlin's unease grew into dread. He'd broken into the library four times now, scoured a total of nine tomes, each of which imparted the same information, more or less.

The trend of general barrenness was no longer an insidious undertone within castle life- it was an explicit fear. Uther was being sedated nearly twice-weekly as farmer after farmer came to report livestock stillbirth. Merlin noticed that many women has taken to wearing strings of dried hawthorn berries tucked under their bodices- a nod to the old religion and an indication of the fearful atmosphere.

Arthur, with unusual perception, was able to piece together the link between their spring patrol and the current state of affairs. They were passing each other in a corridor-- Arthur to a council meeting, Merlin to the stables-when the prince grasped his arm and muttered into his ear.

"Could this be related to that night- you know, this past spring? When you slept-walked onto _that_ territory?" Merlin realized that Arthur wouldn't say the word. 

"I'm looking into it," Merlin confessed quietly, which seemed to surprise the prince.

"I see. Keep me informed." Arthur advised under his breath before continuing onward.

A few days later, when Merlin finally conceded that he would not find an answer he liked, he went to Arthur.

"I may have something," Merlin admitted while dressing the prince for training.

Arthur exhaled and nodded. "This evening," he instructed. "I'll come to you."

And he did, coming through the doors to Gaius's chambers without so much as a knock in warning. He pulled off his gloves and sat himself at the table.

"Let's have it then, Merlin," he announced, settling one ankle onto the knee of his other leg.

Merlin stopped spooning Angelica root onto brass scales and stopped the jar. He stepped his way around various reports littering the floor and dropped into the chair opposite Arthur. He fidgeted momentarily, unsure of how to arrange his limbs, before folding them in front of him on the table. Arthur watched him with bemusement. Merlin cleared his throat once, twice.

"That-place. It's fae holy ground. I looked at Geoffrey's old maps."

"Geoffrey's-did you take my key?!" Arthur looked outraged.

"Not important." Merlin waved the accusation away.

"By all means, just help yourself to whatever you find in the castle, _Mer_lin," Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin's response altogether.

"Arthur!" Merlin nearly shouted. Arthur shut up, and then:

"I swear, Merlin, this had better be useful."

Merlin rolled his eyes and fought the instinct to bicker. 

"We sort of messed up. Like, a lot." 

"No, _you_ did, Merlin. I merely came to retrieve you after you wandered away like baby lamb." Arthur corrected helpfully.

"No," Merlin pushed back with bite, "_we_ did. There are rules in these sorts of places, and we didn't follow them. That's why all of this," Merlin gestured around him in a circular motion, "is happening now."

"Alright. So then, what are the rules?" Arthur asked, the question dripping with extreme doubt. 

"We didn't-," Merlin searched for the right words, "-use the space appropriately." He sighed and rested his forehead onto his folded arms. "Yet." He forced himself to add.

"Use the space?" Merlin could practically hear Arthur shaking his head in confusion.

"It's intended for couples hoping to conceive." The words were spoken into the tabletop. A palpable silence followed.

"Come again?" Arthur's voice was strained.

Merlin didn't lift his head. "You heard me the first time." 

"I- surely they could see we're both men, and therefore…" Arthur trailed off, plainly out of his depth. He cleared his throat. "Maybe if we just go and explain-" Finally, Merlin picked his head off the table. 

"Arthur, we've committed every possible offense by fair-folk etiquette. We intruded onto their holy space at Beltane, refused their game, ran away mid-ritual, and left no offerings behind. They don't care about practicalities- they're old, and they're angry. And powerful."

"How, exactly, are you and I going to conceive, Merlin? This is entirely unreasonable!"

Merlin shut his eyes and prayed for a castle besiegement. 

"Merlin!" Arthur was starting to sound panicked.

"It's not about the conception. It's about the consummation." Another pause. And then:

"Oh. Huh."

Merlin thought then that Arthur must have misunderstood.

"No, Arthur. We're-as in _you and me_-going to have to go back and consummate the ritual," he gestured emphatically between them in an attempt to clarify. Arthur seemed deep in thought.

"Yes yes, Merlin, I heard. Are you telling me that, in order to end this nonsense, all I have to do is take you to bed?" 

Merlin could feel the heat rush to his cheeks. This wasn't the reaction he'd predicted. At all. 

"I mean-" Merlin shook his head, trying to gather his bearings. "And you're just… fine with that?" His voice pitched up at the end, breaking embarrassingly. He was unsure whether he was experiencing excitement or dread about this progression.

Arthur adopted an overly cavalier demeanor, "For the sake of Camelot, I will lower myself to a tussle in the sheets with the worst manservant ever to grace this kingdom." Behind him, a glass stopper on one of the higher shelves snapped audibly. Luckily, it appeared to go unnoticed.

Merlin stood up and paced away from the table, centering his magic and gritting through his teeth, "Excuse me?"

Arthur continued, standing now with both arms behind his back. He grinned widely and allowed his tone to soar to loftier heights. "Don't you fret, Merlin. As your prince, I am duty-bound to protect my subjects- including you. You'll just need to lie back and allow me to take care of it." The words were said with such outrageous confidence that Merlin would have blushed if not for exasperation. 

"You really just think you're going to have me, don't you?" Merlin bristled with indignation. Arthur was being unfairly nonchalant about this turn of events, and Merlin had lost his footing in the conversation, which was now quickly devolving into idiocy. Infuriatingly, Arthur quirked an easy half-smile, like he'd just bested a knight in tournament.

"Am I not?"

In response, Merlin crossed the room in four steps, planted one hand at the center of Arthur's chest, and pushed him backwards and out of the room without pause. When Arthur, still grinning wildly, opened his mouth to continue, Merlin swung the door shut and could hear cackling in the resounding silence.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gwaine

Like most other nights, Gwaine was double-fisting tankards of mead in a lower-city tavern. A troupe of traveling players had arrived in Camelot, and he had set to work bedding each member. Tonight, he was flirting with a young couple- a man and woman, both sweet in their naivety- who'd been eyeing Gwaine curiously since their first night in the kingdom.

He had been minutes from suggesting that they all take their drinks up to an upstairs room, when a tall, cloaked body dropped onto the bench beside him. Long fingers pushed back the hood hastily and Merlin's disgruntled face revealed itself. There was an almost imperceptible dip in the ambient noise as patrons throughout the room recognized the prince's manservant. Within a half-second, activity reverted back and carried on as usual. 

"Merlin!" Gwaine's tone was replete with delight. 

In a series of nimble motions, Merlin swiped one of Gwaine's tankards, swallowed its contents in one go, set it onto the table, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"How's Arthur?" Gwaine asked, nodding knowingly. Across the table, the couple looked on with wide-eyed uncertainty. 

Merlin groaned and stood up, raising an index finger as if to signal to Gwaine to hold the thought.

"Let me grab another," Merlin grumbled towards Gwaine, throwing out a cursory "How do you do?" sans eye-contact to the couple.

As Merlin went in search of the barkeep, Gwaine turned to his guests regretfully.

"Perhaps let's continue this tomorrow night. I've _very_ much enjoyed our conversations." He made meaningful eye-contact with both of them, pleased when twin blushes and bashful smiles adorned each.

When Merlin returned, Gwaine humored him patiently with idle small talk about castle gossip, the other knights, Gaius's new glass scales, Gwen's current beau. Finally, after Merlin had spent several seconds arranging his hands _just so_ on the table, he cleared his throat.

"Gwaine, were you going to-" here Merlin went sotto voce, "-_have_ those two?" He gestured vaguely out towards the rest of the establishment, which Gwaine took to mean the couple he'd been conversing with earlier. 

"Well, Merlin, that was my intention," he sighed put-upon, "but then you arrived and batted your bedroom eyes, and how could I say no?" Gwaine fluttered his eyelids and grinned toothily to underscore the jest. Unusually, Merlin did not take the bait. Instead, he knocked back a quarter of his mead and appeared to inhale deeply. 

"The boy, too?" Merlin seemed oddly flustered, though Gwaine couldn't understand why. 

"Sure." Gwaine was starting to become bored with this line of inquiry.

"How?" Merlin's head was tilted curiously to one side.

Gwaine shrugged and tossed back the dredges of his mead. "Figured we grab fresh pints and move upstairs. Just play it as it lays, really." 

"No," In the corner of his vision, Merlin was shaking his head and visibly struggling to conjure the words. "I mean-_how_? How would you-bed-him?" Merlin's face was beet-red, but his gaze was intense and so Gwaine tried not to let his own expression slip. So that's what this was all about. He lifted his hand to signal to the keep for another.

"Do you mean, how would I lie with him?" Gwaine attempted to gently clarify. This was somehow about Arthur, he was certain of it. High amusement warred with high concern. 

"Ye-Yes."

Gwaine could almost rub his hands together with glee as another full tankard slid in front of him. He turned to his friend, who was anxiously tapping his own pint and awaiting a response.

"Merl. What do you know about relations between men?"

~ + ~

The very next evening, Gwaine found himself engaging Arthur in easy, post-training conversation. The last vestiges of light were leaving the sky and crickets had started their nightly racket. Only he and the prince were left on the training field. Gwaine saw his opportunity and seized it.

"So, I've heard Merlin has a new lover," Gwaine quipped casually.

Arthur whipped around. "What? Where did you hear that?" Arthur's gaze was particularly intense. 

"From Merlin, naturally." He teased.

Arthur frowned and looked taken aback. "Who is it? He never told me that."

Immediately, Gwaine realized he'd made a mistake. Still, he barreled onwards.

"I don't have that intel yet. But. Two nights ago, I had the honor of educating Merlin about relations between men." Gwaine waggled his eyebrows, hoping that making jest of the situation would deter from the fact that he'd just outed his friend.

In the space of a second, Arthurs expression shifted from pouting to dangerous. He stepped towards Gwaine with frightening quickness, and the knight stepped back instinctively. 

"You took him to bed?" The words were alarmingly even.

"No! God, no!" Gwaine backpedaled. "I explained to him. I thought you knew."

"Pardon?"

Gwaine blinked. He suspected that he and Arthur were having two different conversations.

"Merlin was just curious," Gwaine attempted to smooth over. "He's not been with a man, I reckon. It was just a conversation, Arthur."

Arthur suddenly looked stricken. "I see," he replied, though his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

"My lord, perhaps a drink?" Gwaine asked with an easy grin.

Arthur snorted and shook his head, giving a backwards wave as he departed the grounds. Gwaine couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved.

_____________________________________________________________

Arthur

Merlin was adjusting Arthur's cape, fiddling with the clasp at his throat, when Arthur brought it up next.

"So, we're going ahead with it then?" Arthur asked, forcing an indifferent tone.

Merlin stilled with his hands flat on Arthur's shoulders, interrupted mid-smooth down. He blinked widened-eyes twice, like he couldn't believe Arthur's choice in timing, and let his arms fall to his sides.

"We need a full moon," Merlin replied, bending to retrieve Arthur's night shift from the floor.

"Right," Arthur agreed, baffled by this new information. "So, that will be…" 

"Two nights time." Merlin still wasn't looking at him.

"I see." Arthur didn't see. "Merlin, when, exactly, were you going to tell me? Cutting it close here, don't you agree?"

"Been a bit busy, yeah?" Merlin retorted defensively. He twirled a hand in the air. "What with your laundry, your armor, your speeches-"

"Heard you talked to Gwaine," Arthur blurted out before he could stop himself.

Merlin closed his eyes and groaned at the ceiling.

"Unbelievable," he whispered.

"It seems to me that'd be a conversation you'd have with me, not him." Arthur let himself sulk a little.

"Are we really talking about this?" Merlin shot back incredulously.

"Why not?" In truth, Arthur had been hurt when he'd realized Merlin had gone to Gwaine first. "Besides, I thought you used to consort with Rowan and Marek down in the stables!"

"Oh, now you pay attention to castle gossip?" Merlin appeared bemused by the precipitous turn in conversation.

"Well? Is it true?" Arthur pressed on.

Merlin gaped. "With what free time would I have consorted with Rowan and Marek, Arthur? I'm with you nearly every moment of the day!" Merlin held his arms out and looked around as if he was searching for said free time. Arthur felt unduly pleased with this answer.

Abruptly Merlin's expression shifted. "Oh god, is this why you tried to have them sacked last fall?" 

"No." Arthur was careful not to let his own expression change. 

"It is!" Merlin accused, though there were the beginnings of laughter behind it. "You tried to sack your two best farriers because you thought they were bedding me!"

"I thought I was protecting your honor!" Arthur's voice pitched up embarrassingly here. Suddenly, Merlin choked and ceased laughing. "And anyways," Arthur continued, "father reversed the order, so no harm done."

There was an ensuing silence. The tops of Merlin's cheeks were reddened, and he rubbed at the long lines of his neck almost shyly. Arthur's eyes tracked the movement keenly.

"Alright then, two nights time." Arthur surmised after clearing his throat. "We'll meet in Gaius's chambers, take the under-tunnels to the outer walls. Can we manage this in one night?"

Merlin pursed his lips and nodded after some consideration.

"Very well," Arthur concluded and indicated for Merlin to leave.

"My lord," the brunet quipped easily as he departed from the room, Arthur's night clothes folded over one arm. As usual, he made the title sound like some private joke just between them.

~ + ~

The evening of their departure, Arthur packed a rucksack with everything he reasoned Merlin would either not know, or forget, to pack himself-a blanket, pain salve, filburt oil. It was atypical that Arthur packed his own bags, and he tried to recall his own, younger experiences-mainly with the sons of visiting nobles-to remember what he'd needed when on the receiving end of these encounters. At the last moment, Arthur stuffed one of his bed-cushions into bag as well.

As planned, Merlin was waiting right outside Gaius's chambers and he easily fell into step with Arthur on their way to the tunnels.

They crept along, hands skimming the rough walls as they moved, Merlin holding the lit torch between them. At last, the diameter of the passage widened and spat them out into a swath of dense underbrush. Once they'd picked themselves free of debris, Merlin surveyed the night sky in a circular, methodic manner. Arthur watched the brunet's gaze as it jumped from star to star, discerning their route. Having evidently found the constellation he was searching for, Merlin nodded in a seemingly random direction and tugged at Arthur's wrist.

As they walked, Merlin scanned the moonlit trees and meadows-for what, Arthur was unsure. After a long while, Merlin stopped Arthur with a hand to the prince's chest.

"Wait a moment," he murmured, setting down his pack, and alarming Arthur when he unearthed a hatchet from underneath his cloak.

"What if you just tell me what you're doing?" Arthur suggested back.

In response, Merlin motioned to a crabapple tree at the periphery of the forest. It was unusually still laden with fruit given the season, and Merlin stalked towards it carefully. With quick, efficient swipes, Merlin separated a series of smaller branches from the main trunk. Each had about three to four smaller apples still hanging on tenaciously.

"Carry these," Merlin instructed Arthur, who scoffed, but hoisted the branches over one shoulder still. They weren't particularly heavy, merely unwieldy. 

"How are we going to find that place again?" Arthur asked after they'd walked another considerable distance.

"We're not," Merlin replied. "Last time, they let us in. They won't again. We're just going to have to get their attention and hope for the best. It's safer this way anyways."

"Sounds promising," Arthur mused.

It wasn't long after that that Arthur began to hear the vestiges of strange song on the breeze. Again, it was a melodious sound, yet entirely unsettling in its effect. He turned to Merlin, whose brows were furrowed in concentration. The brunet seemed to be using the song to navigate them, walking a few feet, stopping, changing their direction, and continuing.

Finally, Merlin stilled, appeared to listen intently, and then dropped his pack to the ground.

"Alright. Here," he announced to Arthur, who gladly let the apple branches fall to the dirt unceremoniously.

"Careful!" Merlin hissed, scanning the tree line covertly. Arthur glanced around. They were in a clearing, centered within an abnormally large ring of mushrooms, and beyond that, a circular growth of elder trees. 

Arthur dug into his own pack and pulled free a thin woolen blanket, which he settled onto the sparse wild grass. He kicked of his boots and used his feet to nudge the corners flat. 

"Oh," he heard, and turned to see Merlin looking at the blanket, his blush visible even in the dim moonlight. "Good idea to bring that."

This confirmed Arthur's suspicions that Merlin had, indeed, not planned ahead for the tryst part of this tryst. Typical. 

Merlin, meanwhile, set to work arranging the apple branches at the perimeter of the blanket. After this, he pulled two cloths bundles and a wineskin from his own rucksack. One bundle unwrapped to reveal several small honey cakes, which he set in even intervals along the branches. The other held a large quantity of empty halved-walnuts. In each shell, he poured a few drops of cream from the wineskin, and set them just beyond the cakes.

Arthur pursed his lips at the display and reached out for one of the cakes, only to have his arm batted away by Merlin.

"Nuh uh!" Merlin warned. "They're not for us!"

"Just one!" Arthur reasoned.

"No!"

In the corner of his vision, Arthur sensed movement. He turned to find the shadows of every elder tree stretching out towards them, creeping along as if the moon was traveling triple-time to move shadows at such a speed.

"Merlin!" Arthur hissed, grabbing the brunet's arm in alarm. This was all quickly becoming a little spooky for Arthur's taste. Merlin was on his feet in a half-second, back straightening, chin tilting upwards imposingly.

"Play by the rules," Merlin hissed out at the clearing, his eyes flashing dangerously, shoulders squaring back to underscore the command. The shadows retreated immediately, snapping back like hostile beast and Arthur felt his pulse in his dick.

Merlin turn back to him cautiously, breathing unevenly before reaching up to tug his cloak off. Arthur tamped down the urge to reach for him, and instead mirrored the action.

"Let's lie down?" Merlin suggested uncertainly. Arthur inhaled deeply and nodded slowly.

It was an awkward affair, lowering to their knees and slowly lounging sideways, adjusting as they went. Finally, Arthur was lying face-to-face with Merlin, each of them with their arms tucked under their heads. Merlin was struggling to maintain eye contact, glancing away often and worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. Arthur made a decision.

"Alright then," he murmured and lifted one hand to cradle Merlin's neck, just below the ear. He could actually feel the skin under his palm heat up as Merlin's face and neck flushed. 

Arthur leaned forward, tilting his head and letting his nose brush up against Merlin's momentarily, before pressing the most chaste of kisses to his friend's lips. He let himself hover, lips grazing Merlin's, feeling the heat of his short breaths, before pressing in again. Arthur continued like this-pressing increasingly intent kisses into Merlin's lips with short breaks in between-allowing Merlin to relax into him, part his lips wider each time, receive a flick of Arthur's tongue against his own. This last bit caused Merlin to shudder against him and reach out to pull Arthur closer, which pleased him greatly.

Slowly, Arthur rolled Merlin onto his back and settled between the other's legs, which Merlin seemed to accept without protest. He sucked at the skin just under Merlin's ear, then bit down one side of his neck and up the other. Merlin tilted his head obligingly, inhaling sharp gasps and exhaling murmurs of pleasant surprise. Arthur felt drunk with power.

The moon had arced half-way across the sky by the time they'd divested themselves of clothing. Just as Arthur had suspected, Merlin was just as infuriating naked as clothed. The brunet was pliant beneath him now, lips full and red, eyes dark and lidded. He was smiling wickedly, having just figured out which noises-little keening gasps, a half-plea, the use of Arthur's title-that made Arthur groan with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

When Arthur had had enough, he reclaimed the lead by hoisting one of Merlin's legs into the crook of his elbow and reaching down to stroke lightly at space around his entrance. Both gasped with surprise- Merlin at his own sensitivity, Arthur at the discovery that the skin was already slick.

"I, um. Prepared earlier," Merlin panted at Arthur's shocked expression. Unexpectedly, Arthur felt a profound disappointment that he'd been absent for the process.

"Pity. I was going to do that for you," Arthur informed him breathlessly, and then slid a finger inside before Merlin could reply. 

The brunet squirmed around the intrusion and the prince grinned.

"Another," Merlin instructed, as if he was somehow getting one up on Arthur despite trying to fuck himself on the prince's hand. 

When Arthur eventually moved to withdraw, Merlin clenched around his fingers in an attempt to prevent the action.

"Hey!" Merlin cried, as if outraged, his pupils blown wide and tinged gold.

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur replied distractedly, reaching into his pack to retrieve the bed cushion. "Lift your hips, Merlin."

Merlin obliged, and Arthur arranged the cushion under the base of his spine. Merlin crossed his ankles around Arthur's back and tried to pull the prince back in impatiently. It was maddening.

"Would you just-I'm trying to get you ready!" Arthur admonished.

"I _am_ ready," Merlin insisted, gesturing down the length of his body and Arthur took in his flushed chest, his legs parted wide, his prick stiff and shiny against his stomach. Arthur felt like he could weep at the beauty.

Arthur pushed carefully inside, and Merlin gasped sharply and shut his eyes tightly, the girth evidently taking him by surprise. Arthur slid in inch-by-inch, Merlin fluttering around him, his fingers digging crescents into the blond's forearms. When Arthur could push no deeper, he paused, giving Merlin time to adjust. For a few moments, they panted motionlessly into the space between their bodies.

And then Merlin opened his eyes. And his irises were unmistakably gold and molten. Arthur's breath caught in his throat. Merlin didn't seem to know.

"I can _feel_ your heartbeat in me," Merlin mused wondrously, and Arthur couldn't look away. 

Arthur lowered himself to an elbow and grabbed Merlin's chin with his free hand. Arthur held Merlin's head still as he began to move in and out with shallow thrusts. In this position, Merlin couldn't turn away from Arthur- the sort of thing that would typically enrage the brunet. Instead, Merlin held the gaze evenly and sucked Arthur's thumb into his mouth. It was outrageous. Arthur came instantly, pushing in as deeply as possible, fingers curling into a fierce vice around Merlin's jaw.

When he caught his breath and pulled back, Merlin was grinning, practically radiating with self-satisfaction, his eyes still glowing away. In retaliation, Arthur grabbed Merlin's dripping cock, pumping relentlessly until he could feel Merlin quivering around him where they were still joined. And then he stopped. Merlin's whine was a thing of beauty, little tears of frustration making his lashes spiky and wet. There were tiny flashes of gold floating like embers in the air around them. Again, Arthur felt like the most powerful man ever known to the sun and stars.

This time, when Arthur resumed stroking, he watched how the embers materialized with greater frequency the closer Merlin came to finishing. Merlin was shaking now, so close to completion, the gold of his eyes growing richer and deeper in color. Arthur nearly held his breath in anticipation. Finally, Merlin eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back, every line of his body trembling. Arthur could feel him pulsing around his own cock, could feel the hot splash between their joined bodies. In the air, embers of gold shimmered and whizzed by energetically, leaving incandescent trails in their wake.

As Merlin caught his breath, Arthur eased out of him gently and took stock of their surroundings. The branches were gone now, he noticed. As were the cakes and the nut shells with milk. There was only he, Merlin, and their blanket. And a new swath of verdant overgrowth radiating out from their location. Arthur reached out to particularly long blade of wild grass, rubbing it between his index and thumbs, marveling at the miracle that was Merlin.

"Look what you've done, Merlin," Arthur chided teasingly, nodding his head towards the growth circumscribing their blanket.

Merlin frowned, pushed himself to an elbow, and froze like hunted deer as he looked around. Arthur could feel his heart drop.

"What do you mean?" Merlin was forcing a casual tone, avoiding Arthur's gaze. Suddenly, Arthur was no longer feeling generous. 

"Explain this, Merlin." Arthur gestured in a wide circle, tacitly daring the other to lie. The lines of Merlin's body shifted subtly from well-fucked and loose to defensive and tense. 

"It's fae land, Arthur," Merlin shrugged carefully without looking at him.

Arthur pushed himself to his knees, alight with angry disbelief.

"You're being serious right now," Arthur asked incredulously. "I've just taken you to bed, and you're being serious right now," he repeated, more to himself than Merlin, who was tracking Arthur's every motion warily. Like he thought Arthur would have him hanged. Like he was scared of Arthur. The realization was like a blow to the gut. 

"You'd let me into your body before you'd let me know _you_." Arthur whispered, shaking his head, his chest constricting with something like grief. 

_______________________________________________________________

Merlin

Merlin shifted backwards, shaking his head in denial. There was a brief moment- in between hearing Arthur's words and fully registering their implication- during which the ground seemed to drop out from underneath him.

"What are you talking about?" He asked haltingly.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Arthur's voice was low and trembling. 

A cold shock of horror stopped Merlin pulse, and then brought it back again double-time. Instincts held his body as still as an animal of prey.

"I don't Arthur, I swear to you-" Arthur's face shuddered and turned.

"It's 'my lord', not 'Arthur'," Merlin was corrected viciously. Arthur continued, "Clearly, I am your lord, Merlin, not your lover." The words were spat with such cruelty that Merlin physically flinched away. He shifted and could feel Arthur's come trickling down one inner-thigh. Across the blanket, Arthur seemed shocked to hear his own words. 

Meanwhile, the axis of Merlin's world approached a one-eighty-degree tilt. Did Arthur know? Had Arthur known the whole time? Now Merlin was angry as well. Fuck it all. He scrambled to his knees.

"If you've known all this time, what does it matter if I say it?" Merlin's voice was cold and unforgiving. It was a tone that he knew Arthur had never heard.

"It matters that you tell me!" Arthur was shouting now. "God, Merlin, you must know by now," he had one hand pressed to his forehead. 

"Oh, what _must_ I know, My Lord?" Merlin replied acidly. They were both on their feet now. He knew this wasn't a solution, that this was heading in a horrifically bad direction. But he was raw, fucked open, and uninhibited after their coupling. 

Arthur's face was red, and his mouth was gaping open at Merlin's gall. "Your insolence is going to get you killed one day, Merlin." 

"You mean, by you?" Merlin quipped back automatically, and immediately regretted it. 

Arthur became pale and his lips thinned. He shook his head, as if to wash himself of their argument, and began to retrieve his clothing in icy silence. Merlin closed his eyes and wished for the power to turn back time, instead of merely freezing it. The chill of the night was settling onto his bare skin. He listened for traces of fae song under the incessant chirping of crickets, feeling inexplicably hollow when there was none. It was done.

"This is over," Arthur announced tersely, startling Merlin's eyes open. "Get dressed." Merlin obeyed wordlessly.

The journey back to the city walls was one of the most agonizing experiences in Merlin's memory. They walked with about five meters between them, only their footfalls breaking the stifling silence. When they reached the tunnels, Arthur turned to Merlin with an expression of blatantly false deference. 

"After you," he gestured, and Merlin was too tense to give even an eye-roll as he passed. He stopped to rummage through his pack for a torch and some flint.

"What for?" Arthur snorted bitterly. "You may as well just light the way yourself, Merlin."

There was a beat while Merlin considered his response. It would be the final concession, the admission of all his lies, and yet he felt nothing but a hollow numbness at this point. In a vague, far-away sense, Merlin knew this was the last opportunity to prevent a true chasm from striking into their friendship. It had to be tonight.

And so, he raised one palm and conjured a fist-sized orb of golden light, the incantation an after-the-thought whisper as the dark passage of the tunnel became illuminated. The warm light caught the crevices of the earthen walls, the glint of buckles on Arthur's gauntlets, the shine of his hair. Arthur was gazing at him evenly, and Merlin looked back. The prince's expression was unreadable to Merlin, but then, so was the rest of him now. The brunet felt as though he'd walked into the night with one Arthur and returned with a different one-one that was raw and shockingly perceptive and that had been unexpectedly tender with Merlin's body. Merlin himself could no longer discern his own feelings.

Before they parted ways within the castle walls, Arthur reached out for Merlin's shoulder.

"I am your lord, Merlin," Arthur said once again, this time sounding quiet and terribly sad. "I'd never allow you to come to harm-for any reason. I'd hoped you'd realized by now."

Later, as Merlin was scrubbing the evidence of their deed from his thighs, he had the absurd urge to push the remnants of Arthur's come back into his body, as if he could keep a part of Arthur with him until morning.

~ + ~

After that, it was almost inconceivable how quickly straits reversed in Camelot. At daybreak the very next morning, there were reports of trees laden with a late-season crop of fruit, sows miraculously pregnant overnight, women waking up with new blood after months of missed menstruation.

The castle was alight with relief and delight, and Merlin took it all as a personal affront. It seemed like sick mockery to see the state of the city in the wake of his own emotional devastation. But Merlin held his tongue and reminded himself to count his blessings. After all, he'd been tacitly allowed to remain in the Camelot, which was more than Merlin had ever hoped for.

Until that night, Merlin had been entirely unaware that Arthur even suspected, let alone knew. The ensuing fight had been a maelstrom of defensive accusations and emotional chaos. It took some time for him to sort through the wreckage, mentally turning over the pillars of their friendship, examining the nuances, mulling over his expectations.

In the end, Merlin figured he could boil it down to these truths: Clearly, Arthur wasn't scared of Merlin. No, Arthur thought Merlin was scared of _him_. Merlin wasn't scared of Arthur-he snorted internally at the absurdity of it. No, Merlin had thought Arthur would make him leave. Which, Merlin thought, wasn't an unfair assumption, given Arthur's tendency to underestimate Merlin, his instincts, and general ability to take care of himself. He'd probably exile Merlin from Camelot fully believing it was in the interest of Merlin's safety- a scenario he'd had suffered nightmares about on many occasion. 

All of this aside, Merlin was certain of two things: Firstly, he needed to clear the air with Arthur and secondly, he was deeply interested in the possibly of a repeat performance. One necessitated the other, although Merlin didn't entirely care which came first. He'd been touching himself-on his back, fingers pushed up inside him, envisioning the heat in Arthur's gaze he pressed in-nightly now, and it was all becoming rather inconvenient. 

Unfortunately, there now seemed to be a wall of reservation between him and Arthur. It had manifested overnight and was fraught with awkward, charged interactions and meaningful glances and _want_. And Merlin didn't have the slightest idea about how to tear it down. The unbearable tension had spilled out into their public interactions as well, manifesting as frequent spats and bickering, typically in front of the knights. And while the men (Gwaine) had a nice laugh at the show, Merlin honestly wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed for Arthur or himself.

"Time, Merlin," Gaius advised in his world-weary voice. "Just give it time."

And really, Merlin didn't have any other option, because trying to get Arthur to open up was as fruitless as trying to turn back time. After several aborted attempts to circuitously approach the issue, Merlin had admitted defeat and resigned himself to waiting the nonsense out.

~ + ~

Luckily, however, Arthur was not nearly as patient. Instead, he opted to address the mess head-on a fortnight later, while Merlin was busy restocking the salves and perfumes on Arthur's shelves.

"Merlin." 

The utterance was directed away from him as Arthur continued to stare out the window, arms crossed, leaning on one side of frame. Merlin sighed at the ceiling. He straightened the jars into even rows and closed the cabinet with a quiet snick.

"Yes, my lord?" He considered leaving the title off entirely but played it safe instead. Arthur took his time responding.

"Go down to kitchens and fetch some apple-wine. Enough for two."

The kitchens were dark and pleasantly warm, even in late fall, and Merlin leisurely added spices and honey to a bottle, sucking sweet trickles off of his fingers. He steeled himself before entering the prince's bedchamber. Unexpectedly, Arthur was sitting at his table-he'd cleared the surface of plates and papers and quills, leaving only two pewter goblets and an empty chair opposite himself. Merlin deposited bottle unto the table carefully, hyperaware of his proximity to Arthur.

"Sit." Arthur's tone was commanding and his expression impassive. 

Merlin reoriented himself, dropping into the empty chair curiously. In one practiced motion, Arthur uncorked the bottle and poured two precariously full glasses, sliding one towards Merlin pointedly. The brunet narrowed his eyes in confusion- were they going to have a drink up?

"Drink, Merlin," Arthur piped up exasperatedly when the brunet made no attempt to reach for the wine. On principle, Merlin made a show of rolling his eyes, but was well aware they were on unstable ground. The metal of the chalice was cold, it's weight heavy as Merlin took an exploratory sip. Across the table, Arthur watched on.

"The whole thing, Merlin." Arthur remarked when Merlin made to lower his glass. 

The brunet wasn't certain if it was defiance or submission that motivated him to empty the glass in succession of long, pointed swallows, all while sustaining eye contact with Arthur. The prince's neck flushed at the display. Finally, Merlin set the goblet down decisively and burped quietly into the back of his hand, already regretting his decision. Without pause, Arthur followed suit, emptying his own glass with alarming efficiency. 

"Alright then," Arthur exhaled, sitting back in his chair and wiping a hand down his tired face.

Merlin looked at him and suddenly saw a man worn down by the constant burden of leadership. In a snap decision, he chose to be brave, too. Merlin stood and walked around the table, coming to kneel before Arthur in an extraordinary act of deference. Arthur's eyes widened like he couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

Merlin's palms were sweaty where they gripped his knees, but he forced himself to look up and make eye contact.

"Arthur," it came out hoarsely, and where had this sudden surge of emotion come from? 

"You'd never hurt me," Merlin put his whole being into the conviction as he said it, knowing it to be the absolute truth. "I was only afraid you'd make me leave."

Merlin could see the subtle shift in Arthur's expression as the realization landed. He suddenly looked younger, shyer. He also appeared as though he was hanging on Merlin's every word.

"Please don't make me leave," Merlin continued, and somehow couldn't find it in himself to care that he was begging, verging on tears. "My place is here with you." Merlin's gaze dropped. "My lord," he finished, barely a whisper but every bit sincere. The words had been unplanned, had bubbled up from somewhere deep within. The raw honesty should have been mortifying, but instead, Merlin felt only relief that he'd spoken these words aloud. He glanced up.

Arthur's eyes were closed, lids fluttering, the tops of his cheeks wet. He pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed harshly, gesturing for Merlin to stand. Once Merlin was on his feet, one of Arthur's hands found his and pulled his body forwards with purpose. Slowly, Merlin found himself settling onto Arthur's lap, his legs spread over Arthur's thighs, their foreheads pressed together. Arthur held fast to Merlin's hand, pressing the knuckles against his mouth.

"I couldn't send you away, Merlin. Even if I wanted." This was punctuated with a sad, wet laugh, and Merlin reached for him, sliding one arm around the blonde's neck, the other under one arm and up onto his shoulder. Arthur opened up readily and Merlin pressed closer into the embrace, hiding his face in the crook of Arthur's neck and inhaling the warm scent of him.

When Arthur's own arms closed around Merlin's waist, holding their bodies together, Merlin felt a peace he'd not known in years. After veritably eons had passed, he turned his face to press a chaste kiss onto Arthur's neck. When the skin trembled minutely against his mouth, Merlin grinned, parted his lips a bit, and repeated the gesture. He could hear Arthur's voice hitch in his throat, and it made Merlin feel powerful. And bold.

"Do you want to lie down with me?" Merlin murmured into Arthur's ear, nipping at the lobe like Arthur had previously done to him.

He could feel Arthur's body go still before his head nodded emphatically. Merlin pulled back to look at his prince, who was wide-eyed with extreme interest at Merlin's forwardness. 

Merlin smiled. "Alright then."

He carefully extracted himself from the embrace, taking Arthur's hand in his, leading them both to the prince's bed. When he looked back, Arthur's smile was carefree and boyish, and he cackled with delight after the bed curtains closed themselves around their embracing bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are king!
> 
> My writing playlist:
> 
> _Venice Bitch_ \- Lana Del Ray  
_Napalm Love_\- Air  
_Belong_ \- slenderbodies  
_Siri Siri_ \- Fnaire  
_Le Soleil est pres de moi_ \- Air


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